A blogging break

Time for a cuppa

I have decided to have a few days off from the blogging experience¬† – as much as I love blogging, I am taking blogging leave for the rest of January to recharge the batteries. But can I do it? It will be interesting to see ūüôā

Best wishes until next time



Why blogging is important to me

so many interesting blogs around the world!

My blogging journey has a few twists and turns, steps forward and steps backwards, sometimes around in circles. It is true that I write to express some of my¬† inner most thoughts, feelings,¬†fears and ideas, however I don’t want this blog to be one long rumination into “who am I and what am I doing here?” That is ok for a journal that I can write and no-one ever sees. My blog is for sharing with others, so I hope to rise above rumination! Sometimes it is harder than others ūüôā

I started blogging to practise writing often and seem to have achieved that. Over the past 12 months I have posted around 250 topics. I really love doing the Weekly Photo Challenge too – that is a bonus because initially I had no interest in photography and now I get a real buzz out of it.

Today I really enjoy reading other people’s blogs. I subscribe to a diverse range of blogs and I really get a lot from each of them – the occasional sharing of an idea, a fear¬†or a belief – a meeting of minds. Thanks to those of you who read mine.

Sometimes I love to share a poem through my blog. That is another bonus for me as I had forgotten how much I enjoy poetry and now I find myself poring over a poetry book for hours until one resonates with me. Sharing photos in my regular blogs is fun, however most of my electronic photos are of family and friends РI am slowing building a bigger choice of photos to use with my daily posts.

I wish I was funnier than I am¬† –¬† I would love to write blogs that brought a smile to people’s¬† faces ūüôā

The greatest thing about blogging for me is to have an avenue to:

* express an opinion

* share an experience

* express my feelings

* tell a story from the past

* share a poem or some wisdom found in philosophy

* to converse with like-minded people

* learn about other parts of the world through the blogs I subscribe to (thanks Cocomino for  your fantastic blog about Japan!)

* contemplate some of the big questions in life

These are some of the many reasons that keep me blogging along. What inspires you to keep blogging or reading?

cheers for now


Weekly photo challenge – simple

naturally simple

For this post I had one simple thing in mind. I remember finding it at the beach one day (don’t remember where) when I was feeling overwhelmed with life. I picked up this object from the beach and studied it. The more I looked, I could see its simple but intricate beauty. It has been a little reminder to me to keep things simple – that there are simple treasures to be found and I would find them in my life… Many times I have picked up that tiny piece of coral and felt it embodied hope for me.

volcanic stones from near Meekatharra in Western Australia

Over the years I collected some other simple things that are symbols to me of natural strength and beauty – sea shells, a hazelnut and an unusual stone.

My last photo is of an opal before it is refined and a polished stone.

raw opal and a polished stone

A poem by A.S.J. Tessimond

The Old English epic poem Beowulf is written i...

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Reading one of my poetry books today (Mainly Modern published by Rigby) I found a poem called Houses, that I would like to share with you. It is a bit obscure but I felt that the poets words said something important about the human condition. It is fairly dark and speaks to me about vulnerability. Can you see it from any other perspective?


People who are afraid of themselves

multiply themselves into families

and so divide themselves

and so become less afraid.

People who might have to go out

into clanging strangers’ laughter

crowd under roofs, make compacts

to no more than smile at each other.

People who might meet their own faces

or surprise their own faces in doorways

build themselves rooms without mirrors

and live between walls without echoes.

People who might meet other faces

and unknown voices round corners

build themselves rooms all mirrors

and live between walls all echoes.

People who are afraid to go naked

clothe themsleves in families, houses

but are still afraid of death

because death one day will undress them.

 Thanks for reading Рgo to A.S.J. Tessimond to see some more of his work.



Le boyer method of childbirth


It is my son’s birthday today. He was born in 1980 at the Queen Elizabeth Medical Centre in Melbourne. It was a teaching hospital and I remember my bed being surrounded by a large group of student doctors while the head doctor pointed out many of the finer points of my¬† progress (and my anatomy!). There is no shame once giving birth.

The popular birth practice at the time¬†was the Le boyer method. It was the beginning of many trends to make birth a more positive experience for mother and baby. My new¬†son was given to me to hold immediately he was outside of the womb and before the cord was cut. He instinctively started looking for breakfast ūüôā Amazing!

The next part of the process was to place him in a tank of very warm water Рsimilar to what he had known for the previous nine months. His father held him in the water and was so distracted by all the excitement I had to point out to him that the head should be OUT of the water. Drowning newborns is not part of the Le boyer tradition!

I was only in hospital for about 36 hours. We went home to continue as if nothing had changed. I carried my son everywhere in sling where he was kept close to me while he slept and I worked or shopped. He was a good baby with a lovely temperament. He was also a good sleeper.

He grew up to be a lovely person and he still enjoys a hug. I hope he has a great birthday and many happy days ahead of him.




The tree of forgiveness

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Writing can be very cathartic. Recently I wrote a post about my experiences with¬†God and faith – when reflecting on it after I published it, a thought came to me about forgiveness. It was staring me in the face and I didn’t see it.

Sometimes we get hurt and are so absorbed in the hurt that we cannot see any other perspective. I am referring to the time my husband walked out and the church we belonged to, abandoned me – didn’t want to know me! That was about 29 years ago and it is only now that I realise that I am still hurt (and unforgiving)¬†about not getting any support at a time I needed it most.

Today I can remember the people involved and ask myself, “what was going on in their lives at the time? Were they struggling with their own life circumstances? Were they fixated on a view-point at the time, that may or may not have changed since then? Perhaps they did try to support me and I wasn’t aware of it due to the stress I was under?”

I may never know the answers to those questions, but I think it is time I let go of the past hurt and disappointment and have some compassion on those concerned. Holding on to it is of no use to me anymore.

I got through the difficult time and life is good now. I am grateful the opportunity to forgive has presented itself and I grasp it with both hands and let it go freely with open hands.

Thanks for reading


William Blake

The artist and poet William Blake, who lived i...

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Today I found one of my favourite poems. It speaks to¬†me about not holding on too tightly to the people and things we love. It is called “Eternity”. It is a well known poem by William Blake, written in 1863 and it goes like this:

He who binds himself to a joy

Does the winged life destroy

But he who kisses the joy as it flies

Lives in eternity’s sun rise

When we love someone or something we naturally don’t want to let it go. This can be a person, a relationship, an experience… Holding on too tightly can be destructive, like holding a butterfly in your hand and sqeezing too tightly and its life is destroyed.


School days

School Days (1907 song)

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I hated school from the very first day, well, even before that at Kindy. I found it to be really scary to be around all these new and strange people. I didn’t want my Mum to leave. She accepted that Kindy was not going to happen! The next year though, I had to attend school – it was compulsory.

My grandfather drove Mum and me to St Mary’s Primary School. Grandpa waited in the car while Mum came to the classroom with me to hand me over ūüôā I¬†didn’t want to have a bar of it and I threw a big tantrum and started hitting out at my new teacher, Sister Kevin (now if you can understand why a woman would choose to be called Sr Kevin I would love to know). Surprisingly my Mum didn’t give in to my performance this time and I had to stay there. My family never let me forget the scene I caused on the day I started school!

The nuns were very strict and severe. We were reprimanded with a leather strap¬†or a¬†wooden yard ruler. We¬†were driven¬† to submission. It was¬†pretty awful most of the time, but we all fell into line as we didn’t have much choice.¬†What I did enjoy was the learning experience and I was¬†competitive with the other students. I loved “mental maths”and spelling most of all.

It is 45 years since I started High School. This was a¬†government school so it was very different to Catholic environment I was familiar with. I mention the 45 years because there is a reunion coming up¬†in March and¬†I will be going along. I haven’t seen most of my school buddies since I left school. I have lived thousands of miles away¬†since 1983.

Have you been¬† to a school reunion? I would love to¬†hear other people’s’ experiences of revisiting¬†old school friends (and¬†some not so friendly). I feel a bit nervous about going. Will I recognise people? Will we be shocked at how much we have changed or how little?

I wonder if we will compete in telling stories about what we have done with our lives. Will we be honest or try to paint a prettier picture than the reality? I wonder too, if we will share stories about people who aren’t there. One of them is my good friend Rina. Rina died of breast cancer before she turned 40. Prior to her death, we exchanged email addresses and kept in touch that way for some time.¬†We did manage a face-to-face catch up in Sydney before she died.

Please share your experiences of school reunions. I guess it is curiosity that drives us to attend these things, like “I wonder what ever happened to so-and-so. Did they ever live out the dreams?”¬† I will tell you more about it after the event in March. I am sure there will be some good material there for stories and photos!

cheers for now


God and faith

Anglican Catholic Church in Australia

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I once had a strong faith in a loving God and it was integral to my life. I attended a Catholic School for seven years and this provided a foundation¬†of belief. I was President of the Young Christian Students for our region at one point. It wasn’t for very long though because I had a big “fall from grace” (another story sometime) experience where priest asked me and a small group of others to end our involvement in the church. It was never official – he just didn’t want to see us again¬† ūüė¶

All through the following years I still believed in God – I didn’t stop. I lost faith in the church though and didn’t resume my involvement until I was in my twenties. A potted history is:

  • Catholic School and church till I was about 15
  • Resumed involvement in Catholic church in my early 20’s
  • Moved to the Anglican Church (the Church of England in Australia) mainly because there were more people in my age group with young children. It was a “charismatic” Anglican Church
  • With great fervour we jumped into a “missionary like” situation and went to a remote Aboriginal Community for 12 months work. That was a big eye opener for me – seeing the disharmony and arguments among the Mission staff –¬† a very different group who were quite “fundamental” in their interpretation of theology
  • Next adventure was a similar trip to the Kimberley region working for a mission with very conservative views on religion.

I guess that last dot point is an important one, because my marriage broke up during our time there and the mission staff wiped their hands of us and were no support at all to our family at the time.

Since that time I still attended church, mostly in an Anglican Church. It was very accepting and not judgemental and didn’t tell me how to live out my faith. For about the next ten years I continued my involvement and took on various roles in the church.

So what happened? Where did it go wrong or where did I go wrong? Where did I lose my faith in God? I would really like to find my faith again. Does it just get harder to believe in God as we get older? Does cynicism set in?

I am not asking for answers – I am just sharing with you where I am at now. The topic¬†arose because I was reading a book I picked up for 50 cents at a second-hand bookshop. It is called “Readings for Mental Health” and it is put out by the 12 step program of GROW. It is a brilliant book that helps me put my feet on the ground but it is also insists on a belief in God. How can I make use of the information provided if my faith is absent. It got me to thinking about “where has it gone?”

All for today. Thanks for reading this far!